


The Winds of Change

by PlagueDoctor31



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Evil Dead - All Media Types, Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Elder Scrolls AU, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Skyrim AU, Vampires, also some ashbert fanservice but they're not established yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22399042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueDoctor31/pseuds/PlagueDoctor31
Summary: Two men, bound by Fate, arrive in the sleepy town of Morthal and become wrapped up in investigating a tragic house fire and realizing that not everything is as they seem, as dark forces beckon them towards a suspicious relic of unfathomable power...
Kudos: 12





	The Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is based on the events of the questline "Laid to Rest", with a few extra elements added here and there. Enjoy! ^_^

It had been three days. Ashley Williams didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

The crowd at the Moorside Inn was as modest as the day he arrived in Morthal, to which he observed from his seat by the far wall. In fact, the residents of the city were scarcer than most other Holds have been to. A few sat close to the hearth, having a hushed conversation to themselves. A man, a nord by the looks of it, stood over by the innkeeper’s table, mentioned something along the lines of “passing on through”. All the while, the local bard hummed a tune as strumming some local ballad Ash wasn’t too familiar with. He was always partial to “Ragnar the Red” himself, but he wasn’t in the mood to make a request. The Imperial simply sighed and continued to nurse the mead he ordered.

As a member of the Companions of Whiterun, Ash was more used to jumping into the action straight away, usually killing a bear that wandered onto someone’s property or hunting down a wanted criminal. However, this particular job was unlike anything else he had been hired to do. A courier had stopped him on the road, handing him a sealed letter on behalf of the Companions, telling him the contract specifically requested for Ash’s services. The letter simply read:

_“Meet with the Wandering Mage in Morthal. See to it that he finds the Black Book. - RC”_

Ash didn’t recognize the initials “RC”; nor did he have the faintest idea of what a Black Book was. Nevertheless, he had a reputation and honor to uphold and off to Morthal he went. He asked around if a mage had passed through these parts, and turned up nothing substantial. Considering the fact that he may simply be early, Ash decided to wait. Skip ahead three days, and he was still waiting.

His mead had almost run out when the door opened, causing a breeze to roll through the whole inn. Ash paused mid-drink to see who had arrived, expecting some local wanting to escape the night air. Instead he saw a stranger, cloaked in black with the hood up as a shield from the elements. All eyes were on them, as it wasn’t often for a stranger to look as conspicuous as this one. Ash narrowed his eyes, unable to see any weapons visible on the new arrival. Magic type, then? Ash unconsciously straightened in his seat, his gut instinct knowing full well that this had to be the person he was waiting for.

Not paying the other patrons any mind, the mage crossed the room to the innkeeper, the patron standing by her being quick to get out of the stranger’s way and sit down. Ash strained to listen in, turning his eyes back to his mead to make sure his eavesdropping wasn’t obvious. The mage asked for a room in a hushed tone, already pulling out a handful of coin. However, the innkeeper interrupted them, asking if they were, in fact, a mage. Ash could feel excitement creeping up, watching the stranger nod and the innkeeper pointing in his direction. The stranger looked over, and Ash allowed himself to perk up and smile, raising his cup to acknowledge them. The mage nodded in thanks to the innkeeper and pocketed the money before making his way to Ash’s table.

“This had better be worth my time,” the stranger groused, taking a seat in front of Ash.

“I was about to say the same thing, seeing as I was forced to wait three days for you,” Ash shot back, the grin feeling more like a frustrated smirk as he pulled out the note from RC, passing it to the stranger. Once taken, the stranger used their free hand to remove their hood, allowing for Ash to get a better look.

He was definitely a Breton, judging by the dark hair and softness of his features in comparison to the sharpness of an Imperial or the strong brow of a Nord. Ash shouldn’t have been surprised, as Bretons made a habit of leaning towards the magical arts, but something about this particular man felt more striking, as his pale skin seemed to have the more ethereal quality of the Elves, whose blood mingled in the ancestry of all Bretons. Perhaps it had something to do the man’s eyes, which shone with some underlying emotion and pierced into all in the direction they looked upon. Ash couldn’t help but stare, but not quite because of those eyes…

“Yes…?” The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Ash fumbled and quickly cleared his throat, “What’s that on your face?”

The man paused, his mouth forming a small “Oh”, as he reached up to the garment perched on the bridge of his nose. It was made of some kind of metal, reminding Ash of the brass in Markarth, and held two circular pieces of glass in front of the man’s eyes.

“These are spectacles,” The man stated matter-of-factly, as if it were common knowledge. He waiting for Ash to respond, but Ash continued to stare at him dumbly, “I would be blind without them. There are remnants of them in Dwemer ruins, but it seems like most profound knowledge of the past, it’s all been lost with the changing of eras.”

Ash easily detected the hint of disgust in the man, the air of pretentiousness that seemed to go hand in hand with the admiration of the past. This wasn’t just any mage, this was a _College_ mage. Lovely.

“So,” Ash did bother to follow up on the man’s comment, preferring to get down to business, “You are…?”

“West,” the mage didn’t look up from inspecting the contract, “Herbert West.”

“Right, well, I’m Ashley Williams, member of the Companions. Most people just call me ‘Ash’, so--”

“So you’re a sellsword,” The corner of West’s lips curled up as he cut him off, looking amused by that information. Ash opened his mouth to correct him, to tell him the Companions were more than just sellswords and hired muscle, but the mage interrupted him again.

“Tell me sellsword,” West placed the contract down “Do you have any idea who this ‘RC’ person could be?”

Ash shook his head, “Honestly, I was kinda hoping that you would know.”

“I do not,” West shut down the other man’s hopes for answers, “And this… ‘Black Book’, I take it you found it?”

“What!? No!”

“You said you were here for three days, how have you not found it by now!?”

“I have no idea what a Black Book _is_ , much less know where to find one!”

The two men glared at each other, and Ash could feel his sword hand start to itch. At that moment he was thankful he had left his sword in the room he rented, as he became keenly aware that the eyes of the other patrons were on the two of them. Ash cleared his throat, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“So…” Ash flashed another frustrated smile, “Neither of us know who hired me, and we have no idea where to start on finding whatever it is you’re supposed to find. Why don’t we have some food and smooth things over.”

West huffed in frustration and crossed his arms, but did nothing to protest. As Ash stood up, the door to the inn opened once again, but this time a city guard stepped inside, scanning the room.

“You,” the guard pointed at Ash once spotting him “The Jarl wishes to speak to you.”

Ash’s brow furrowed in confusion as he pointed at himself, “Me? What about…”

He looked down at West, who pulled his hood back over his head. Ash knew he had no other choice. If a Jarl wanted something, they would get it eventually whether Ash liked it or not. He let out a sigh and pointed towards his room.

“Let me get my things first.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was setting as Ash finally stepped out of Highmoon Hall, adjusting the straps holding his sword and trusty “boomstick” to his back. He stood in the evening air, feeling as conflicted as ever. This job had a lot of firsts already, but never before was he hired for a second job entirely in the middle of working for another. However, the job laid out by Jarl Ingrod Ravencrone was much more straightforward than searching for some lost item no one knows about. He stepped onto the main cobblestone road in town, turning to head to his destination.

“Sellsword.”

Ash sighed, recognizing the voice addressing him. He turned to see the cloaked figure of West sanding off to the side, watching him from the shadows.

“You should be inside, West. A wanderer like yourself would probably want to rest.”

“I’m used to lack of sleep,” West stepped out to approach the mercenary “Besides, I’m more curious about the job the Jarl hired you to do.”

“That’s none of your business,” Ash turned to walk away. He got a few steps in before the mage spoke up.

“It wouldn’t happen to involve the fire at Hroggar’s old residence now, would it?”

Ash swore under his breath, turning his head to glare at West and spoke through gritted teeth, “How…?”

The smile on West’s face was smug, “People talk, sellsword, and when you were called away by the guard the other patrons started talking, mentioning something about a house fire and murder.”

Ash got a better read on the expression in Herbert’s eyes, it was that of sheer morbid curiosity. He does have to admit, in a job such as this that potentially involves the supernatural, aid from a mage would be incredibly helpful.

“It’s not much,” Ash attempted to play down his task “All she wants is for me to investigate the noises that the people of the city said were coming from the house. That’s it.”

That didn’t seem to deter the mage as West approached and came to a stop at Ash’s side, “Of course. The sound of screams, of a child crying. What are we waiting for? The sun has almost set.”

As West and Ash stood before the burnt out husk of what was once a cottage, Ash couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to find himself in such a situation. The heavy weight of death hung over the charred wood and collapsed stone. Any ashes that may have remained in the past were no doubt blown away by the wind, and what remained of the victims had been buried for about a week now. He shuddered, glancing over at his newfound companion, finding the mage’s growing excitement to be the very opposite of contagious.

“Alright, you’re the magic expert. What exactly are we looking for?”

West was the first to enter the ruined house, scanning over what he may find, or rather a lack of what he may find. Ash had to be frank, there was nothing there. In a way, it relieved him. Good to make some easy gold after being forced to stay in Morthal for so long. He stepped inside as well, and a shiver of guilt ran down his spine.

“Feels like I’m stepping on someone’s grave,” He noted to himself.

“Perhaps the entity only appears when night has truly set,” West observed out loud to himself, adjusting his glasses as he knelt down in front of what remained of the hearth. Being the only area of the home to be made of stone, it survived the fire relatively intact, the only signs of it being affected being the black coating of soot, ash, and char.

“Hm, something seems off,” West pondered, gently touching the blackened stone.

“It does. Doesn’t it?” Ash agreed, moving over to get a closer look, “According to Jarl Ravencrone, Hroggar claimed that the fire was started when his wife accidentally poured troll fat into the fire, which caused the house to be set ablaze. However… if it really was an accident, how come Hroggar was the only one to survive? At the very most, the wife would’ve been the only one perished, since she was the closest to the hearth.”

West only responded to Ash’s speculation with silence, no doubt ignoring him. However, when Ash’s looked down at the mage, he saw West looking back with a wide-eyed stare. He seemed to be surprised, perhaps even a bit impressed. It made Ash smile a little in amusement.

“What?”

This prompted the mage to quickly look away, but not before Ash could notice that his cheeks had become tinged with embarrassment, making his smile grow wider.

“At any rate,” West was quick to change the subject, “It would seem we must wait longer in order to experience the alleged phenomena.”

That was how Ash found himself setting his weapons down and taking a seat on the floor of the ruined husk of a house, staring up at the cloudless sky and the moons overhead as the mage he was hired to aid sat beside him, engrossed in a book. As the minutes ticked away, Ash attempted to whistle or hum a tune to entertain himself, but they were quickly shot down by West. And so the two sat: in complete silence. The eerie stillness made Ash stay on-edge. Morthal was unlike most other hold capitals he had been to, much less his home in Whiterun among the Companions at Jorrvaskr. Even in the late hours of darkness, Ash could hear a dull bustle of his home, footsteps of fellow Companions coming and going, the crackle of the hearth and the warmth that came forth. There was none of that in Morthal at that moment, just silence and the still cool air.

He almost jumped when he detected movement coming from his side. Ash quickly turned his head, expecting to see some ghastly abomination before him. Instead, it was West, who had reached down and was in the process of unsheathing Ash’s sword.

“Hey!” Ash threw out his hands to take back what was his, “Don’t you know it’s not polite to touch a man’s weapon without asking!”

West rolled his eyes, allowing Ash to take back the sword but not without a frustrated huff on his part. The glint of curiosity was still present in his eyes, however, as the mage looked upon the sheathed weapon. Feeling pride bubble up from within his chest, Ash decided to comply with the man, unsheathing the sword so West could look on the blade. That pride only only grew as West let out a soft gasp of surprise. He was not the first person to react that way, as the blade’s jagged edging along the side was unlike anything else seen in Skyrim (at least, from what Ash has seen so far).

“Impressed?” Ash grinned, tapping his knuckle against the flat of the blade, “Had this specially made. Skyforge steel, in case you can’t tell.”

West let out a hum of approval, watching as Ash put the sword away. Ash couldn’t help himself at that point, now that he had a bit of an audience to show off to.

“And!” Ash picked up his second weapon, “If they’re a little too far away, I let them have a little taste of my boomstick.”

He held the staff in his hands, long and wooden with a gnarled top that housed an orange crystal that simmered with the fiery energy that’s contained within. West’s expression changed to that of shocked recognition, reaching out in an attempt to take ahold of the magical item, but was stopped when Ash pulled away. 

“A Staff of Fireball,” West exclaimed aloud, “I must admit, not many sellswords boast even a fraction of dedication to the arcane.”

“So will you admit that I’m more than just a ‘sellsword’?”

The two locked eyes again, Ash having the upper hand in the conversation, which he displayed with a grin. West scowled, breaking their eye contact after a few moments with a face flushed in silent emotion.

“Perhaps,” he answered, his voice dripping with reluctance.

Ash would’ve laughed with triumph, but he was cut off by a giggle. The giggle of a girl. Both men’s eyes widened with realization, and they sprang to their feet. There! There in the corner opposite of them, tuck away as if it were hiding, was a ball of light. It pulsed slowly, as if to signify breathing, or at the very least an imitation of it. Ash was slow to approach, and the glow took shape, the shape of a young girl. Her hair and dress were pristine, as if she was never touched by the fires that ravaged the house, but with her pale and gaunt face, along with her lightless empty eyes indicated that she was very much dead. Ash knelt down before her before speaking as calmly as he could.

“Can… Can you hear us?”

“Please, I’m scared,” the little ghost sniffled, practically shaking where she stood. Ash reached out.

“It’s okay. We just want to help you…” Ash trailed off, realizing he didn’t know the girl’s name, “H… Ha… Hel- no… H--”

“Helgi,” West cut in with a sharp whisper, eyes still locked on the girl with awe and curiosity.

“Right,” Ash nodded, “We want to help you be at peace, Helgi.”

“She didn’t want to burn down the house, she was made to,” the spirit of Helgi spoke cryptically, “She didn’t want me to die, but it’s too late. Please don’t let her find me, I just want to sleep now.”

“Who’s ‘she’?” Ash furrowed his brow in confusion, “Did she burn down the house?”

The girl nodded, “Come find me, and you will see.”

Before Ash could protest, to ask more questions, the glow surrounding the ghost brightened before abruptly disappearing, and Ash was left staring at the empty corner of the cottage. A hand brushed against the shoulder of his leather armor, and Ash looked up to see West looking down at him. The mage lifted his hand off of Ash’s shoulder, turning it over to help him up which Ash obliged.

“So…” Ash started slowly, “I suppose it’s time for a little game of hide and seek.”

“I have an idea,” West tugged on Ash’s hand to lead him along, “This way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ash rushed through the forest, feeling excitement rise in his chest as the two men followed a slightly beaten path up and around the house. As they climbed the hill, West came to a stop behind some resting boulders.

“Any idea where we’re going?” Ash finally asked, allowing himself to catch a breath, West was doing the same as the two stood there.

“Morthal’s graveyard is just beyond, where Helgi and her mother are buried,” West paused to look out from behind the boulder, “Whoever’s searching for Helgi will most likely have the same idea. Be on your guard, sellsword.”

Ash nodded and quickly unsheathed the sword, but was surprised to find that West was stepping out without one. He reached out, grabbing West by the arm to pull him back. The man stumbled, caught off guard by the yank and glaring up at Ash.

“What now?”

“Where’s your weapon?”

West rolled his eyes, “Mages don’t need weapons.”

“Tell that to the mages who’ve tried to gut me with a dagger in the past.”

West groaned, holding out his free hand, two which a small ball of purple energy poofed into existence. With a mere twitch of his fingers, the aura grew larger, longer, until a dagger with a jagged blade fell into the palm of his hand, which West deftly caught. He held it up for Ash to see, even giving it a little wave for emphasis.

“There. Now I have one too. Now, shall we?”

Ash nodded, letting go of the mage and following him out from behind the rock. Ahead of them was a small clearing with stones marking the ground where the dead are buried. Ash quickly scanned their surroundings. Not an orange robe in sight, so no Priest of Arkay about to keep a watchful eye on the graves. Bushes rustled, and Ash signaled for West to stop. The mage side-stepped, not-so-subtly putting Ash in between him and the source of the noise. Bushes rustled once more, and out stepped a woman dressed in black. She looked frantic, clutching a sword in her hand.

“Helgi! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“That must be her,” Ash whispered to West, who agreed with a slight nod. The mage looked on with curiosity, as if the woman were a riddle he couldn’t quite understand. Ash had to admit, the woman did look a bit off, her skin being a bit too pale in the moonlight, but regardless they needed to keep her away from Helgi’s spirit so he stepped forward to call out to her.

“Hey Miss! What’re you doing up at a time like this!?”

The woman whipped around, and full-on hissed at the sight of the two men before charging, “YOU CAN’T HAVE HER!”

West lept back as Ash raised his sword up, just in time to collide with the swipe of the woman’s own blade. Up close, something definitely wasn’t right with the woman, who was baring her teeth and her eyes ablaze with some kind of hungry fury. Ash grunted with effort and pushed the woman back to gain distance between them. However, the woman persisted, swinging her sword more and more, clanging once, twice, three times against Ash’s weapon. The woman roared in frustration and outstretched her hand. From the corner of his eye, Ash saw West’s eyes grow wide with alarm.

“Ash, careful! She’s a--!”

Ash missed the last part of his sentence, as the whole of his being stabbed with pain, as beads of blood red aura seemed to be sucked out of him and into the palm of the woman’s hand. He doubled over, dropping his weapon as it took all his strength to stay standing. However, it didn’t seem much effort as the woman stalked closer to him, her hand still outstretched and pulling the red beads from his body. The pain increased, and Ash collapsed to the ground.

“What a fine meal you are!” The woman sneered, standing over Ash. She ended her spell, but the pain still lingered in his body. He considered crawling away, but hope diminished as the woman raised her sword on high, intending to bring it down into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the blow.

It all stopped, however, with a wet gurgling sound. Opening an eye, Ash allowed himself a peek at what exactly happened. She stood rigid, her eyes wide with shock as blood bubbled from her lips and slowly began to drip forth. From her neck protruded the tip of a blade, a familiar looking knife with a jagged edge. The woman’s dying body was shoved aside onto the ground, revealing West to be the one behind the attack, sighing in relief that the short-but-frenzied encounter was over. Ash tried to push himself back up, but the ache from the woman’s magic attack remained. That and West had now knelt down and pushed Ash back into the laying position.

“Don’t move, she might’ve infected you,” West explained, rummaging through his bag he kept slung over his shoulder. Ash blinked slowly, slowly realizing something.

“Hey… You said my name.”

West didn’t look up, “What?”

“Just then, when you shouted at me, you used my name.”

West said nothing, his flushed cheeks doing the talking for him as his withdrew a small bottle and uncorked it.

“Drink this,” He held the bottle to Ash’s lips.

The drink was cool, like crisp river water on a warm summer day, but as it traveled through his body it became warm, soothing all the aches and pains the attack caused. He let out a sigh of relief, smiling up at West as the made stood up. The mage offered a hand, and Ash gladly took it.

“Thanks. I owe you one for that,” Ash smiled at his companion. West furrowed his brow, looking genuinely perplexed at the notion of someone thanking him.

“Laelette!? _Laelette!?_ ”

A new voice could be heard approaching, and the two turned to see a man brandishing an axe running towards them, coming to a stop before them with a desperate look in his eyes.

“Please, tell me where my wife is. I swear to you I heard Laelette’s voice just now!”

Ash’s heart dropped like a stone at the man’s please, figuring out fairly easily who the man was looking for. He opened his mouth to speak, to try to placate the man before giving him the bad news, but West stepped forward.

“Your wife attacked us in a frenzy. There was nothing else we could do.”

The man looked bewildered, “‘Nothing you could--’”

He stopped, letting out a pained gasp as he spotted the body of the woman on the ground. He rushed towards it, heartbreak and horror intermingling in his expression before the sobs overtook him as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms. It hurt Ash’s heart to see the man like this, and he stepped closer.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. If there is anything we can do…”

“She told us she was going to join the Stormcloaks. Why? Why would she do this?” The man choked though his grief, brushing the hair out of her eyes to give her forehead a tender kiss. Ash looked away, stepping back to give the man privacy.

“We should go,” He spoke to West, “We’ll talk to Jarl Ravencrone in the morning.”

West nodded, but before the two could depart the man let out a gasp, causing them to both look back. The man had dropped the body back on the ground, quickly scrambling away in horror.

“Wh… What have they done to my wife!?” The man exclaimed, fear rising in his voice.

Ash was quick to go to his side, “Is something wrong?”

“That _thing_ is not my wife anymore!”

“Calm down, sir, I’m she just--”

“Look at her, Imperial!” The man shouted, pointing at the bloody corpse, “They turned my wife into a GODDAMN _VAMPIRE!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> So not only am I a big fan of Evil Dead and Re-Animator, but I'm also a big Skyrim nerd too! >_<  
> I'm really hoping to make this thing into a larger/longer series incorporating all sorts of characters. With a setting like Skyrim, it's fun to picture how characters from other stories would fit into them as well as together. If you have any ideas for me, please don't hesitate to tell me! ^_^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it!


End file.
